Ron and Hermione's first
by Kaleey James
Summary: How Ron and Hermione first showed their magical gifts. No longer a one shot just some short stuff. James is up now, not sure who's next. Comments welcome!
1. Ron and Hermione

Everyone expected Ron to be a wizard. He had five older brothers that had shown great promise by the age of three. Bill had, at the age of three, set his father's Ministry papers on fire when no one would play with him. Charlie, at age three and a half, set his stuffed dragon on his Aunt Muriel when she started pinching his cheek and smothering his in kisses on visiting on holiday. Percy, at a spectacular age eighteen months, ("He'll be a genuis, Arthur, Minister of Magic someday, right after his father!") sent all the books on his bookshelf leaping off to the floor, after which he picked up his favorite one and politely bonked his mother on the head with it. (Apparently, he didn't want to wait to read it.) Fred and George waited a bit longer than the others, until there were alomost four years old, but when the finally displayed their abilities, it was quite a show. While at a parade, the twins had their vision blocked by the most oblivious of witches, a rather plump woman who stood directly in front of the boys. They quickly grew tired of trying in vain to push her out of the way, and resorted to jumping frustratedly. Suddenly they found themselves hovering over the parade, with the best seats in the house. The picture of them giggling and clapping was used in the article on the parade in the _Daily Prophet_.

So Ron was expected to show his skills by around age three, give or take. Of course, no one expected Ginny to follow so soon, so Ron was put out of the spotlight quite soon and quite suddenly. Ron was not being noticed when he was learning new words (his first one was "Cannon"), or learning to play new games. (For quite some time, much to Molly's dismay, his favorite game was one Fred and George invented: Roll-The-Ron. You can imagine how it was played.) But Ron finally showed everyone his talent on his fourth birthday.

The whole family was there to celebrate Charlie getting his Hogwart's Letter, along with Ron's birthday. Bill was on holiday from Hogwarts for the weekend, and Percy was pestering him with questions, wanting to see his wand and wanting to see "real magic." Charlie had gotten his wand and had opened his gifts (a quill set, a cloak clasp with his initials on it, and the Flourish and Blotts recommended "Young Quidditch Players Essentials" collection, a set of three books about Quidditch), he was more interested in keeping an eye on the twins, who were busily trying to steal Bill's wand and swap it with someone else's. That had been their favorite game recently, switching wands and watching the sparks fly. So Ron was in the thick of things, opening his presents and desperately wanting to try out the cake on the table. No one was paying attention to Ginny, for the moment.

About halfway through the presents, Ron suddenly got very upset about something, but no one could see what he was fussing over. Suddenly everyone turned to a muffled scream from the general direction of the cake. Ginny, who had been helping herself to about one quarter of the cake, now had a very chocolately hand stuck to her teeth – Ron said "BAD GINNY! MY CAKE!" at the top of his lungs and sat down to finish his presents. Ginny, not one to not have the last word, turned Ron's hair green, then sent the cake flying at him, hitting him full in the face. The toddler brawl that ensued was remarkably muggle-like, with the standard kicking and hair-pulling, but with Fred egging them on and George waving one of the wands they'd snatched at the two, which eventually turned them both a neon blue. Arthur finally had enough, and he grabbed his wand (which the twins hadn't bothered, thankfully) and with a flick lifted his four youngest children up in the air. Molly unstuck Ginny's hand from her mouth, then let her down, and then cleaned up Ron, and brought him down as well – making sure to keep them far apart. The twins stayed suspended in the air for a bit longer, until Arthur realized they were enjoying it, and then they came down with an uncermonious _thud_.

Hermione's magical childhood went unnoticed for sometime, though. Her parents were quite busy as dentists – Hermione was nearly born in her mother's office – and they hired a babysitter for their little angel. After Hermione started walking and talking, though, the sitter turnover began climbing inexplicably high. The Grangers explained it to themselves as "high strung teenagers" who "just couldn't handle such a bright toddler." After all, they'd never seen Hermione move the dining room table across the room, like one claimed she'd done in response to refusing to read to her, or make her bottle come to life and bite the sitter, like one swore she'd done when she was hungry.

The Grangers kept hiring sitters, and some would last a few months, some a few weeks, and a couple only lasted a day, quitting with wild stories about Hermione throwing heavy objects at them, or changing the color of their clothes, or unlocking her nurserey door. As she grew, though, the Grangers noticed that odd happening occurred near her. The most outstanding of which was when she set her teacher's dress on fire – then old woman had given Hermione a smack on the hand with a ruler for arguing with her about a math problem.

Her parents admitted that she was different; she was so bright, it wasn't a bit surprising. The most surprising moment of all came one day when she had just turned eleven. She wanted to go to the libraqry, but her parents had to both work, so she was going to the office with her father. Little Hermione snuck out of the office, climbved in the car, and drove herself to the library. When her father noticed his car and his daughter missing, he called the police, like any concerned an nearly panicking father would. The fact that she got in the car and drove to the library wasn't the surprising part; no one could figure out how she got there while the keys where still in her father's pocket.

The "happenings" were explained several months later, in June of the next year. A very stern woman showed up on the doorstep of the Grangers' house. She looked old, but her hair was still very black – it was very difficult to place her age for those reasons. She asked for Hermione to join them in the living room, then sat down on the sofa and proceeded to begin explaining her presence. Jus tthen the telephone rang – Mrs. Granger got it, and stayed on it when she realized it was a patient, asking about his inflamed gums. A few moments later, the other phone line rang – her father's phone, another patient, more waiting.

Hermione, fed up with being patient, and brimming with curiosity, finally asked the strange woman: "Just who are you, and why are you here?"

When the woman protested, saying she would rather discuss this in front of the other adults, Hermione stated matter-of-factly, "They'll be forever; I know it has somehting to do woth me personally, else you wouldn't have asked me down her with you. What's going on."

"Well, young lady, I have some news about you and for you. I don't believe I should tell you everyhting right now, but I will tell you right now that I am a professor at a school here in Britian, and I have your invitation righthere with me."

"A school? What kind of school?"

"A – _special­_ – school. One for special young children such as yourself."

"Special… A school for the _Gifted_, you mean? Mother and Father were talking about sending me to one last year, but none would accept me. Born three weeks too late, apparently. Afaraid I _couldn't keep up_, apparently. And Father wouldn't _dare_ argue with them, because obviously, three weeks makes such a _massive_ difference in intelligence. Oh well, rules are rules, I suppose, but…" Hermione flopped back against the sofa. This was apparently a sore spot for her.

"Well, I'll have you know that a cutoff for student's birthdays is set usually not because of the students' intelligence levels but because of their maturity, and their education level from the schools they were in prior to Hog – our school," the woman sniffed gently. "Students with birthdays in the beginning of September always present a difficult decisioin, especially in your case – you almost made it, but our concern was your being so far from home – "

"A boarding school? I wouldn't mind being far from home. That's what's keeping _them_," she motioned to her parents, engrossed on their phones, "from sending me to one in France this year. They don't want me to leave. Honestly, like I couldn't take care of myself."

"Well, Miss Granger. Tell me, do you feel you're a bit – different – from all the other students at St. George's?"

"Oh, absolutely, Professor… I don't believe you told me your name."

"My name is Professor McGonagall, Miss Granger. I am the Deputy Headmistess."

"Well, Professor McGonagall, I know there's something different about me. Things keep happening. _Strange_ things. I set a teacher's dress on fire once. I just don't know how, I was so angry at her, she was so stubborn about how her answer just _had_ to be the _only_ one, and suddenly she was screaming. These things keep happening, and it's me, I know it is, there isn't any other way, but I can't explain it, I just _can't_!"

"I can explain it dear, but you'll have to wait until your parents are back here with us."

"So what else do you do at this school, besides being a Professor? What is there to do?"

"Well, we have sports, I'll explain it in a bit, and I am the head of house for Gryffindor House. My house when I was a student, you know," she added with not a little bit of pride.

"Griffin… griffin.. those creatures are mythical guardians, like sphinxes, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are guardians, and yes, they are like sphinxes, but our house is named after one of the four founders of our school, not after the beast. Godric Gryffindor helped found Hogwarts a thousand years ago. My house is named after him."

"A thousand years ago? Gosh… surely I would have heard about this school, though. Any school a thousand years old would be in all the listings of schools.

"Well, we like to keep ourselves rather inconspicuous, though I will tell you that there is a book available, called _Hogwarts, A History_. If you'd like, when we get your supplies – assuming you accept your invitation, of course – I could direct you to a copy."

"Wonderful! I like how it sounds, I accept, I accept!"

"My dear – oh, here are your parents."

"What is happening here, now, Hermione? What have you just accepted?" Mr. Granger asked.

Before Professor MdGonagall could answer, Hermione burst forth, "Father, Mother, She's Professor McGonagall, of Hogwarts, it's a school here in Britian that's been in existence for a thousand years, and it has it's own book published about it, and it's a boarding school for the gifted, and I've been accepted, and I want to go right now, she said she'd take me to get my supplies and everyhting!"

Professor McGonagall politely waited until Hermione stopped for breath, then began to explain her presence and everything that Hermione had just said. When she was finished, Hermione said, "I always _knew_ I was special, I knew it, I knew it! I want to go, I accept, let me sign the letter or the contract or sign up or whatever I have to do, I can't wait!"

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I believe she has made up her mind, and if the car incident last year was any indication, I don't think you'll be able to stop her. What is your answer to the invitation?"

They said yes.


	2. Sirius

Sirius Black never got along with his little brother Regulus. Perhaps it was the fact that Sirius was only two years old when Regulus was born, and he didn't understand that his parents had to spend lots of time with the new baby, not him. Perhaps it was the fact that their mother, Walpurga, showered Regulus (who looked a great deal more like her father than Sirius did) with more attention. Perhaps he did understand, but he just wanted to be a troublemaker (that was Waqlpurga's opinion).

But rest assured, Sirius and Regulus did not get along. When Regulus started crawling, Sirius made a point to step on his fingers whenever possible. When he began walking, Siriius took great joy in pulling rugs out from beneath him. If Regulus wanted a toy, Sirius made sure to get it first, then not share, or he'd put it within sight, but just out of reach. These actions, of course, made Regulus cry, and Sirius got in trouble for them. The boys soon learned how things worked at 12 Grimmauld Place: All Regulus had to do was run to his mother crying about something Sirius did, and Sirius would be put in his room, leaving Regulus free to play as he pleased; and Sirius learned that he was going to get punished anyway, so he'd better do something mean to Regulus so he'd at least _earn_ the punishment. As the two got older, the tricks became nastier, and the punishments more severe – and Walpurga spent much more time with her friend, Odgen's Old, since the boys grew steadily more irritating.

But before Regulus learned that he could get Sirius grounded at the drop of a hat, he _was_ the victim most of the time. Sirius would lock him up in a trunk, or in the attic, or in the bathroom, or stuff him in the dustbin, or under the bed. Once, Sirius managed to get him in the loo – and flushed. Sirius thought it was very funny, until Walpurga caught him.

But Sirius' finest moment came when he first displayed his magical talents. Sirius was three, and he was thirsty, and he couldn't get his mother's attention for anything. Regulus came round the corner, yelling for Mama, and Walpurga came running, and Regulus got a small children's cup full of juice, while Sirius, who had gotten to the point of shrieking, was simply told to shut up. (Kreacher wasn't required to take orders from the children until they were at least four years old – otherwise he spent lots of time eating dirt and worms.)

Sirius was furious when his mother walked away, since he'd been crying for the last five minutes (which seemed like an eternity). When Regulus refused to let Sirius have a drink from _his_ cup (with a very loud "_MINE!_", which brought Walpurga hurrying back), Sirius had finally had enough. He screamed, and, to his delight, and Walpurga's horror, Regulus started sprouting _antlers_ out of his head. He began screaming, threw the cup, which Sirius managed to catch, and while Walpurga grabbed her younger son and the Floo Powder and raced off to St. Mungo's, Sirius sat contentedly on the floor, enjoying what was now _his_ juice.


	3. Lily Evans

Lily Evans was a gifted child. She started talking at six months, and walking at eight – quite a bit remarkable. She was also a beautiful child, precocious and intelligent, with thick dark red hair, and her eyes turned green around her first birthday. Most of the neighbors asked Violet Evans why she wasn't in beauty pageants, but Violet didn't want to put her baby on a pedestal.

Mostly, Violet didn't want Lily's older sister Petunia to get any _more_ jealous of the new baby. Four years older than Lily, Petunia was tall for her age, a bit spindly and clumsy, and her thin, wispy blonde hair just didn't compare to Lily's luxurious locks. Violet and her husband Mark desperately tried to treat their daughters equally, but not many other people made the same effort.

Violet was a housewife; her world was her two daughters. She noticed something "not quite normal" about Lily by the time she was six months old – she would, on occasion, get toys from her toy chest or shelves into her crib, and Violet couldn't explain why. But Violet and Mark learned for sure that Lily was far from normal one day when she was four years old.

Petunia, still jealous of the attention Lily kept receiving, liked to tease Lily about her hair – the fact that it was the only trace of red hair anywhere in the family was her favorite target. She'd tease Lily about her "awful" hair, even though she secretly wished hers was as thick.

When Petunia was eight and Lily was four, Petunia was invited to a slumber party. She talked nonstop about it during the days before, and Lily decided she wanted to go, like little sisters tend to do. For the most part, Petunia managed to ignore her pleading, but the matter came to a head the day of the party.

Petunia spent the entire day getting ready, with Lily at her heels all the while, crying "_Tunie! Tunie! Take me with you!_" Petunia had tried all the usual explanations, like "You're too young," and "You weren't invited," but Lily wouldn't give up. Finally, just outside Petunia's room, an hour before the party, Petunia whirled around to face her sister and shouted, "Well, you're not going because no one wants anyone with a gigantic red _mop_ on her head like _you_!" Then she slammed the door to her room in Lily's face.

Lily wasn't one to take losing an argument very easily. Her face bloomed a bright crimson, and her eyes flashed, and she glared at the door she was staring at very intensely. Then a devilish grin slid across her face, and she screamed, "_FINE!_" and stomped off down the stairs to the parlor to play with her toys. Once she got halfway down the stairs, a blood-curdling scream came from Petunia's room. Lily kept going down the stairs.

When Violet got to Petunia's room, Petunia was still screaming but she was hiding under her blankets on her bed. Violet asked her what was wrong, but she just kept shrieking. Finally, Violet pulled the covers back, and their was Petunia, sitting on her bed, clutching her hair, which had just become incredibly thick, and _fire-engine red_.

After a few minutes more of screaming, Petunia calmed down enough to beg her mother to call her friend and give any excuse whatsoever that she wouldn't make it to the party. Violet politely refused; she would not lie for her children, not over something as trivial as hair color. But she would allow Petunia to call her friend and excuse herself in whatever way she saw fit.

Petunia trudged down the stairs to the telephone to make her apologies, and after she hung up the phone, she noticed Lily standing behind her, beaming.

"I made it so now Tunie can't go to the party either." And she giggled.


	4. James Potter

There are some pure-blood families in the wizarding world, who,. Believe it or not, take it for granted that their child is magical. If little Johnny or Susie is still not spinning teacups with Mummy or Daddy's wand by the time they're six or seven, the parents simply brush it off. "Oh, he's a late bloomer, you know, it runs in the family." Most of the time, they're quite right. Some children just don't display their talents quite as soon as others. Of course, there's that small percentage that are Squibs, plain and simple. Their family is duly shocked of course, when that owl from Hogwarts with the welcome letter doesn't arrive by the first of September after the child turns eleven. Parents start calling the headmaster, or the Ministry, trying to see if it got lost in the post, but it was never sent. Then the neighbors start talking when the child isn't at school, and the awful truth comes out. It never occurred to them that instead of a late bloomer, their child was a never-bloomer. It is still surprising that some people simply take it for granted that their child is magical.

Emily and Harrison Potter were not that sort of people. When they discovered that their Baby Jamesy was a wizard, they took him to the finest ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley, Florean Fortescue's. Of course, it was a few minutes before it occurred to them that he _was_ magical.

Harrison loved to fly. His favorite broomstick was a Tinderblast from 1940, one of the first editions of that particular brand of broomstick. Harrison rode that broom for years, until he had a son. Then he bought a Comet 200 for himself, saying that he wanted to save the Tinderblast for James to learn on.

He solemnly swore to make certain that the boy appreciated the fine art of riding a broomstick. This, of course, meant sneaking him out when Emily wasn't looking for afternoon rides on the Comet out around the house. Emily was not much for riding on brooms anyway; she preferred staying on the ground as much as possible, and she thought that James was far too young for flying lessons. But Harrison firmly disagreed, and when Emily was out doing the grocery shopping or visiting with friends, he would take James soaring around the yard, a firm grip around James' middle with one hand and a firm grip on the handle with the other. James loved the rides, and he'd usually whimper when Harrison took him back in the house afterwards.

One day, when James was two, Emily had to go to Diagon Alley for some fabric for a new dress – she planned on being gone about an hour – perfect for Harrison to give James a ride. Harrison raced out the door a moment after Emily Floo'd away, carrying James on his shoulders.

It was a bright, warm autumn day, and the birds and squirrels were very active preparing for the oncoming winter. Harrison held James snugly, and they swooped up in the air. James squealed with glee, waving his hands in the wind, and Harrison looked down to see his son's hair being completely mussed about with the air rushing past. _His hair will never sit straight again, with all the riding we're doing_, he thought. At the moment he looked up from James, he saw a bird flying straight at them.

Harrison's first reaction came from his years of riding – duck and roll. Unfortunately, until then he'd never had a small passenger with him when he attempted the move. James slipped out of his grasp, and Harrison's yells were intertwined with James' as he fell. Harrison threw himself into a dive, plunging to the ground, and flipped himself off his broom onto the ground, praying he could still catch James before he fell on the ground, which would certainly lead to a trip to the wizarding hospital, St. Mungo's, some very awkward questions, a loud argument with Emily, in which she would be quite right, and no more rides for James.

But James never hit the ground. Harrison looked for his toddler in the air above him, but he was nowhere to be seen. He looked on the ground – no injured child. Then he heard James shrieking with laughter – he was floating about in the _air_ – like a leaf, he was swooping about, squealing and yelling with joy and excitement.

Harrison breathed a sigh of relief, then pulled out his wand and brought James down. Just as he pulled James in a tight hug, he heard Emily from behind. "_WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH OUR SON?!?!_" she shrieked. "He could have been killed – "

"Dear, it was an accident – "

"Accident my foot – what were you _thinking_?"

"He slipped when I rolled to avoid a bird – "

"Is this what you _do_ when I'm away?"

"But he loves riding on the Comet – "

"I don't _care!_ You cannot just fling him about like a blasted playtoy!"

"I know it was close, but please – "

"No _please _about it, he could have been hurt – "

"I know, thank heavens you – "

"He could have been killed! _Our only son!_"

"Thank God you caught him when he fell off the broomstick, I'm not sure if I could have caught him, we'll never play on the Comet again without you here!"

But Emily didn't fire back right away. She had a thoughtful look on her face. "You were on the Comet?" she asked, with a note of disbelief in her voice.

"Yes, yes, we've been doing this for months – he loves it, he cries when we go back in, but we ducked and rolled to avoid a bird, and I lost my grip on him – "

"So, you _weren't_ tossing him around with your wand?"

"No, of course not, I'm the reason he fell – thank goodness you caught him in time, he really enjoyed you flying him around like that – "

"So that wasn't _you_?"

"No dear, _you _caught him,"

"No, I just came back for my purse and I saw you flinging him about like a rag doll – "

"But I wasn't – I didn't have time, I'd just touched down when I saw him…"

"So if it wasn't me…" Emily mused.

"And it wasn't me…"

The Potters' eyes locked – Emily grabbed James from his father and swung him in the air. "_Our baby is a wizard!_" she cheered.

And they went out for ice cream. Emily celebrated James discovering his skills, and Harrison privately celebrating the fact that his son was a born flier. And he never took James out on the broomstick without Emily there on the ground again… well, not any times that she knew about, anyway.


End file.
